What Needs to be Said
by Deana
Summary: Reese and Finch need SOMEONE to speak for them...


** WHAT NEEDS TO BE SAID**  
>By Deana<p>

.

As I sat before my computer, I didn't hear the door open, or see a man enter the room and stand behind me.

"Your number has come up."

Startled, I turned to see John Reese looking at me, with his trademark Impassive Stare®. I was too surprised at his words to melt under his bright blue eyes. "It has? Why?"

He gave a slight smile. "Well, it hasn't really, but it might, because of what you're about to do."

My eyebrows rose. "And what is that?" I asked.

Saying nothing, he came around the couch and sat beside me. Despite my confusion, my heartbeat increased at his nearness.

Reese sighed. "I don't blame you, you know. If I could do it myself, I would."

I inwardly cringed. "You mean—"

"Yes, I've seen it. So has Finch," Reese replied. "I don't know how he found out that people were writing about us, but after he got over the shock that so many people do in fact know what we do, he looked up this website and read some of the stories. When he saw…_those_…he almost had a heart attack."

"I'm sure," I replied, shaking my head.

Reese sighed. "I know that you're probably going to post it anyway, so I'll just warn you now that you'll probably get some angry reviews."

I sighed. "I know. But everyone—including me—has the right to voice their opinion."

Reese nodded. "Very true." He stood. "I have to go…happy writing."

I smiled and waved. "Bye!"

He walked towards the door before turning. "Oh, and by the way…thanks, from me _and_ Finch."

I smiled ear to ear. "Anytime!"

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

"Are you sure you want to do that?"

Startled again, I looked up from my seat in the diner to see Harold Finch slide into the other side of the booth. "Finch!" I said with a grin. "Hi!"

"Hello," he said, picking up the menu. He looked at my hand, hovering over the button that would finalize my post. "I can't say that I'm not relieved to have someone on our side, but you know what will happen if you post that."

"I know," I said, nodding. "Reese already told me. It's worth it, though."

Finch nodded. "What exactly did you put in it?"

"I say how much I love the show, and how eager I am to read 'Person of Interest' stories, but some authors write you and Reese as something other than work-partners, and I just don't understand why! We know that Reese likes girls because the show keeps mentioning his poor dead girlfriend, and we know that she _was_ a girl because of the flashbacks! Making you and Reese the other kind of 'partners' is directly un-canon, and should be labeled AU, for goodness sake! I mean, if there was some kind of proof that a character IS that way, then if someone wants to write it, at least it'll make sense. But there's none of that with you two! I just wish there were more dramatic, episode-like 'Person of Interest' stories without slash!"

Finch nodded, sipping the tea that a waitress had brought him without even asking what he wanted.

"I know that slash is in probably every category on the site," I continued. "But the page for your show has so many…like, half of them are slash, if not more."

"I know," Finch replied. "It was extremely…unexpected."

We were both silent for a minute, before I reached down and poked a key on my laptop. "There, it's posted. I know I'll probably get angry reviews, but oh well. If someone says that I offended them, too bad…they don't apologize for offending me! I said what I needed to say."

Finch nodded. "That's all we can do." He suddenly reached up and touched the transmitter in his ear. "Yes, Mr. Reese, I'm here." He looked at me. "I have to go."

I reached out my hand. "It was great to meet both of you!"

Finch smiled and took it. "Likewise."

"Hey!" I said. "If I can ever help some way in any of your cases, let me know! I worked for a PI once, and was an Explorer at the police station when I was younger…I always wanted to be a cop!"

Finch smiled again. "We'll keep that in mind." With that, he stood and limped away.

Smiling, I watched him go before looking down at my laptop and checked my email, already finding a review waiting for me. With a shrug, I closed the lid and walked over to the register.

"The guy who sat with you paid the bill," the cashier said.

I smiled. "Aw, how nice of him!" I left the diner and stepped towards the crosswalk, before a blinking red light in the corner of my vision caught my eye.

Looking up, I saw that it was a camera. One of Finch's? "Too cool," I said to myself, before crossing the street.

THE END


End file.
